


ribs

by lancebased



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Child Abuse, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Slow Burn, adashi, again what else is new, but what else is new, hallura, its not in depth its like two sentences but still, klance, mentions of weed/marijuana, pining klance is canon mf king babey!, so is stoner klance, stoner keith is canon king!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-27 09:31:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16699900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lancebased/pseuds/lancebased
Summary: update: I DITCHED THIS FIC IM SORRY :(lance and keith met as kids, immediately becoming inseparable best friends. as they age, they have to learn to roll with the tides of life, ideally with each other. life isn't perfect, however, and they become estranged. after two years of no contact whatsoever, keith, now a firefighter, and lance, now a nurse, meet again, rekindling whatever is left smoking from the wildfire they left behind.





	1. how all the thoughts moved 'round our heads

**Author's Note:**

> uh this is me completely self-projecting and just absolutely bathing in self-indulgence and giving myself everything i ever wanted in a fic. i have a pretty good chunk of this bad boy written already and know where i want the story to go, but i wanna see how people respond to this before i keep uploading considering how i literally havent written shit besides research papers and academic essays since i stanned 1d (ive grown from that i promise)
> 
> title is from the song ribs by lorde aka sad girl BANGER!
> 
> self promo: [lancebased](http://www.lancebased.tumblr.com) is my tumblr come party with me
> 
> pwease comment and share and all that jazz!! love u mwah

**_Lance, 10 years old._ **

**_Keith, 9 years old._ **

**_Past_ **

Keith holds tight to his own shaky hands, fiddling and twisting his clammy fingers as he walks to the bus stop with his foster mother. It’s the first day of fourth grade, and the thirty-ninth day of living with this new foster family. She tells him to not be scared, he counters by insisting he isn’t. He  _ is _ scared, but he will not cry. He promises himself that as he waits for the bus.

He focuses on a worm struggling to get to the dirt to distract himself from the onslaught of anxiety currently bouncing around his body. It had rained the night before, so the ground is wet, and the worms are out. Keith likes the smell of the air the day after rain, but the worms freak him out. They’re slimy and weird looking and gross. What if he steps on one? They’ve taken claim over the sidewalk Keith and a few other children wait on, splayed out randomly across the concrete, waiting to be crushed by muddy sneakers. He may be disgusted by them, but he doesn’t want to kill them.

He feels like he’s been waiting for the bus forever, and the longer he waits, the more he thinks. He thinks about the new school and the new kids and the new teacher and the new everything. It’s scary, but he will not cry no matter how bad the lump in his throat hurts. He will not cry, he will not cry, he will not cry.

(He told himself that the day of his father’s funeral too, and he nearly kept his promise. Then some of his father’s fellow firefighters started folding up an American flag. One of them was crying already, silently. These were the same guys Keith learned the majority of his swear words from, the guys that would come over to his house and drink beer with his dad, the guys who had kids Keith would play with sometimes, the guys that his father had died surrounded by.

One of them hands Keith the folded-up flag, and Keith feels a wall within himself crumble. He breaks his promise, and he cries. It’s not a lot at first, but then he’s sniffling a little louder, the man is still on his knees holding the flag out to Keith. He takes it in his tiny hands, holds it to his chest, and starts to hiccup. He’s shaking and sobbing and gripping the flag so hard his knuckles turn white. Someone pulls Keith into a hug, and Keith wraps his arms around a stranger’s leg as his snot and tears dirty the flag.)

He hasn’t cried since the funeral ten months ago, so he will  _ not  _ be a big baby and cry on the first day of school.

Keith is still watching the worm, so focused he doesn’t even notice the bus pulling up. His foster mom pulls Keith’s attention to her as she kneels down and lightly grips his shoulders. “You’re gonna have a great day, Keith! I can’t wait to hear about it when you get back. I’ll be right here waiting for you when you come home, okay?”

God, this is ridiculous. Keith can handle himself, he can use the microwave and cook pasta on the stove and one time, when he was desperate, he baked a pizza in the oven home alone. His dad worked a lot and he didn’t have a mom, so most of the time he was left to his own devices. He certainly didn’t need this lady walking him to and from the bus stop in  _ fourth grade _ . But she’s nice, she has a warm smile and nice hugs, and she makes the  _ best _ mac n’ cheese Keith has ever tasted, so he lets her have her moment.

Her husband isn’t so nice, he never fails to mention that Keith is just part of his government check, and he raises his voice a lot to him and his foster mom. He’s meaner to his wife than to Keith, a lot of times she yells back. Then the argument keeps building, each of shouting worse things with each new insult. Keith wishes he could stand up for her sometimes. But the one time he did, he got a clean smack across the cheek from the husband in return. His foster mom made him promise  _ never  _ to stand up for her again. Keith often wonders if they were ever even in love.

Keith nods, and she gives him one of those super big hugs she always gives. Keith and the other kids have to leap over a big puddle between the sidewalk the bus door, some kids splash in it on purpose. Nimble and light on his feet, he lands on the other side without a drop getting on the new shoes his foster mom got him for school. (Her husband yelled at her for it, something about spending money they don’t have, but she fought back of course, refusing to return the shoes. He thanks her more than once for the sneakers.)

He stretches his legs up those steep steps, and stares into the aisle. Part of him expected to be greeted by all the other children staring at him, judging the new kid, but everyone’s too busy chattering with each other. Eyes scanning for any open seats, he easily finds an empty one. He slowly walks to it, hoping no one snatches it before him. No one does, everybody seems to sit with people they already know.

Ugh. It’s a wheel seat. Keith hates the wheel seat, his legs scrunch up too much and it’s not comfy, he likes to spread out. Whatever, he sits down quickly and waits for the bus to move. He looks out the window, watching droplets fall down the glass when they get to the next stop.

Keith can’t see how many kids are at this stop but he notices a little head of brown hair running down the sidewalk. He’s yelling something, but Keith can’t hear it. He splashes into puddles, getting his shoes dirty and soaked, a bag that’s too big for his back bouncing obnoxiously with every stride. Dang, this kid is fast.

He bounds onto the bus, looking around and panting. He starts to near the back when he spots someone and whines, “Veronica, you were supposed to sit with me!”

“Not my fault you were late! Besides, I’m in fifth grade, Lance, you’re only in fourth. Fifth graders get the back of the bus. It’s the rules,” snaps the girl who must be Veronica.

The boy huffs and looks around, everyone is sitting but him. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him, waiting for him so the bus can go.

“So snotty, what kinda nerd says ‘besides’ anyway?” The boy murmurs to himself, turning around. He spots Keith, who quickly turns away, afraid that he’d been caught staring. Lance takes his bag off, setting on the floor before plopping into the seat. He grumbles, “At least it’s a wheel seat.”

Keith wants to ask him if he seriously likes the wheel seat, because that’s just crazy to him. But Keith is shy, he stays quiet.

“Are you new?”

Keith is caught off guard, is he talking to him? “Are you talking to me?”

“Yeah,” the boy says, like it’s obvious. Keith supposes it is, who else would he be talking to?

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m new.”

“Oh, cool!” The boy sits up so fast Keith jerks back a little. “Where are you from?”

“Texas,” Keith mumbles.

“Really? What’s it like? I’ve never been, is it hot? Are there a bunch of cowboys?”

“Uh, it’s…hot. And really boring.” Keith looks down at his feet.

“ _ Boring? _ ” Wow, this kid is loud, and, apparently, very shocked at the notion of Texas being boring. “How? It’s like the Wild West!”

“That’s old stuff. It’s not like that anymore. And I lived in the boring part, anyway.”

“Good point.” The boy sits back a little. “I’m Lance, by the way.”

Keith turns to him, looking down at the hand outstretched beside him. He wants a handshake. What is he, an adult? Whatever, Keith takes his hands out of the pockets of his jacket and shakes it. “Keith.”

“Keith,” Lance says, pulling his hand away after a few seconds and wiping on his shirt. “You have really sweaty hands.”

Keith looks at him with a blank stare for a moment, unsure of how to react. He feels heat flooding his face, and Lance starts giggling, “Don’t feel bad! Just kinda funny is all.”

Keith frowns, his tone meant to be insulting, “ _ You’re _ kinda funny.”

And the bickering begins.

**_Lance, 25 years old._ **

**_Keith, 24 years old._ **

**_Present_ **

Lance hums to himself, turning to the bedside chart after hanging the IV bag.

“What song is that?” A low voice slurs, making Lance jump.

“I didn’t realize you were awake.” Lance looks over the patient, a drunken regular. The man’s aging eyes are barely open. “The Best is Yet to Come. Frank Sinatra.”

“Hm,” the man grunts.  _ God, he reeks, _ Lance thinks. “Thought it sounded familiar. You’re keeping me up with all that humming.”

The man’s head falls over a little, falling back asleep. Lance scoffs and whispers, barely audible, “ _ You’re _ keeping  _ me  _ up with all that alcoholism.”

This guy has been in the ER a bunch of times in the past year, a frequent flyer for the staff. He was here less than a week ago, vomiting all over the tile, yelling at anyone trying to help. Before that, Lance hadn’t seen him for nearly three months. Lance thought he’d gotten his shit together, or at least picked another ER to bother. Lance noticed the past two visits he hasn’t had on the wedding ring he usually does.

Lance notices the little things, even the most seemingly useless, miniscule details. Hunk tells him it’s what makes him such a good nurse. He can’t deny his attention to detail has saved a lot of patients over the years.

Lance finishes logging what he needs to into the charts, double checks his work, then double checks the patient, and heads back to the nurses’ station to do even  _ more  _ charting, pulling the curtain closed as he walks away. He dramatically falls into the office chair, twirling around twice before Hunk comes up, seemingly out of nowhere, and nudges Lance’s leg, stopping him from spinning. “We got more.”

Lance merely looks over at Hunk, dead look in his eyes. “Take that back.”

“They came in while you were giving our favorite a banana bag.”

Lance groans and stands, arching his back with his hands above his head as he stretches. “They? More than one?”

Hunk looks down at his clipboard, reading something. “Mhm. Some apartment fire. Which could mean burns, but it also means fire _ fighters.  _ Hot ones.”

Lance chuckles at the obvious pun. “Heh.  _ Hot. _ ”

As Lance and Hunk walk side by side to meet the patients and staff that are already in the bay, Hunk recaps him. Some apartment building fire got nasty, multiple casualties. One thirty-seven-year-old woman with a few cuts, maybe a broken rib or two, smoke inhalation, burns. Another fifty-year-old man, smoke inhalation, burns. Three firefighters with deep cuts, some smoke inhalation, and a possible concussion.

Hunk swipes the curtain open, moving to the injured man he mentioned he was working on earlier before he got Lance from the nurses’ station. Lance meanders over to one of the firefighters lying on a cot a few beds away from Hunk, eyes cast down as he slips on gloves. He takes the stethoscope from around his neck, about to plug it into his ears. As he looks up at the patient, ready to say something, he stops short, color draining from his face.

“I…Holy fuck,” Lance falters.

“Lance, profanity!” Dr. Coran chirps from across the bay.

Lance can’t even apologize, can’t even acknowledge Coran, because right there, in front of him, is Takashi Shirogane. The…the last time Lance saw Shiro, he was in the hospital, comatose, next to death. (Of course, since then, however, Lance has learned what death  _ really _ looks like.)

Shiro had his forearm covering half his face, but now that he’s properly heard Lance’s voice, and recognized it, he’s lifted his arm from his head, and is now staring at Lance with wide eyes. It’s his turn to swear, “Holy fuck.”

Lance blinks once. Twice. He still hasn’t moved. Not only does hearing Shiro swear throw Lance off (the guy prides himself on class, which includes leaving out crude vocabulary), but the fact he’s even in front of him has his head spinning. He knows some eyes are on him, he knows Hunk is watching, wondering what the heck has Lance, of all people, frozen in place. It’s like he doesn’t know what to do, and it’s slightly concerning, because Lance  _ always  _ knows what to do, especially at work.

“We know he’s good lookin’, but come on,” someone calls.

“Thace, don’t be weird,” a female voice scolds.

“Sh-Shiro…” Lance trails off, stepping back as Shiro begins to sit up. He looks a little roughed up, in is dirty bunker pants and fire department shirt, with soot all over and bruises starting to form on his skin, small cuts in on his jaw. Lance hears some distant voice asking Shiro if he knows him.

“Lance! Oh my God, look at you!” Shiro pulls Lance down for one of the tightest hugs of his life. Holding Lance warm and close, Shiro has hugs that give his mom’s a run for her money. Shiro sniffles a little bit, and Lance still can’t move. He’s here, in the flesh, conscious, and very much alive.

“Shiro…” Oh, God. Now Lance is tearing up a little, hands lightly settling on Shiro’s shoulder blades, as if he’s fragile to touch. Shiro pulls Lance back and stands up completely. He envelopes Lance once again, somehow tighter than the last hug. He smells like smoke and sweat and rubbing alcohol. “What the hell? How long have you…?”

“How does he know this kid?” Thace asks to one of the other firefighters standing aside.

Shiro pulls back, holding Lance by the shoulders. Smiling, he gets a good look at Lance. Looking up at Shiro with the same wonder he did as a kid, Lance glances over the scar across Shiro’s nose from that incident that felt like lifetimes ago, the one that got him in that coma to begin with. “He grew up with Keith! I haven’t seen you in like, what? Three years almost?”

“For real? Where is he? Keith!” One of the firemen hollers with impatience.

“Keith’s here?” Lance squeaks, sounding impossibly small.

Before he can get an answer, he hears a voice behind him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

Lance widens his eyes and turns around. Keith is…disgusting. To say the least. He’s covered in a sheen of sweat and soot with some blood smeared all over his face. God, Lance can smell him from where he’s standing.

Keith’s brows raise straight to his hairline, where scrapes and cuts litter his skin. “Oh, shit.”

Have mercy, Keith looks good. He stinks like a sewer rat, but Lance can’t help but notice how built he is, he looks different, yet still the same young man Lance had left him as. He wears some firefighting gear, but just the bunker pants and the shirt. A strange wave of relief washes over Lance, he feels like he exhales a breath he had been holding for years, a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

Lance stands still for a moment before bursting into amused laughter. Keith immediately looks defensive. “What are you laughing at?”

“You still have that stupid mullet!  _ And _ you’re still shorter than me!” Lance puts his stethoscope around his neck. His smile couldn’t be any brighter right now, neither could Keith’s. Lance notices that big smile, soaks it in for all it’s worth. Seeing him so genuinely and unapologetically smile after years of being deprived of it, Lance feels like he woke up at three in the morning with cotton mouth and started chugging cold water. Keith lacks a few inches on Lance, but he’s standing taller, his posture is looser, he’s more relaxed. His guards are down, he’s happier, Lance can tell that much.  _ Thank God, _ Lance thinks, content to know Keith has seemingly gotten his shit together.

“Lance, you jackass.” Keith doesn’t move for a moment, as frozen as Lance was a moment ago. After getting a good once over of Lance, he makes a move toward him, opening his arms.

Lance jumps back, “Oh, hell no! Shower first, then you can hug me.”

“Ouch,” Keith jokes. Lance is lying, he doesn’t give a shit how Keith smells. If anything, he wants nothing more than to just pull him in and squeeze the life out of him, make up for two years’ worth of hugs. But Lance can’t do that, seeing Keith makes Lance’s healed wounds raw and fresh again.

“Lance, my boy, can I get your help over here?” Coran calls him; the older man from the fire, who is definitely intoxicated, is giving the doctor some resistance. Lance can’t move, he can’t help but take as much as Keith in as he can. It’s been over  _ two years  _ since he’s seen him, he can’t look away now, he feels like he’ll disappear again if he does.

“You’re being summoned,” Keith reminds him, looking over to Coran. Lance snaps out of his haze.

“Go shower, Keith,” Lance points to him as he walks away, only half-joking. Keith laughs, and Lance trips over himself a tiny bit.

X

“Lance looks good, looks happy,” Shiro notes, shoving a few more chips in his mouth, finishing off the bag.

Keith winces as Hunk cleans the cuts on his head. “Yeah.”

“That’s all you got?” Hunk asks, smirking. “You said it’s been two years. Gimmie something good.”

Keith closes his eyes. What can he even say? There’s too much to unpack, especially to a stranger, even if he does claim to be Lance’s best friend. Keith vaguely misses holding that title. “I…I don’t know. Is he even the same person?”

“Oh, God.  _ Yes. _ ” Hunk wants to tell Keith Lance is still as hopelessly in love with Keith as he was years ago. He refrains from telling Keith too much about Lance’s life presently, not knowing how much Lance even wants him to know, considering the way Lance implied they left things.

Keith chuckles. “Figured.”

“You’re talkative,” Shiro notes.

“My head hurts.”

“It’s that giant zit on your face,” Lance’s voices chimes in. Keith opens his eyes to see Lance coming around the curtain.

Keith scoffs, “It’s the concussion.”

“My man takin’ good care of ya?” Lance leans over a bit to see Keith’s tiny wounds, not getting any closer.

“Yes, Lance. I’m very gentle. Unlike you.” Hunk rolls his eyes.

Keith finds that hard to believe, Lance has the softest hands he’s ever touched. Keith looks down at them, they look the same, warm, supple, and a little tough, but capable of so much, readily available to hand out compassion and aid to whoever may need it. Keith raises a brow, “What’s that mean?”

“Lance is one of those ‘suck it up’ nurses. I mean, we all are to some extent, but Lance-”

“Is merciless?” Keith interrupts, smirking.

Lance laughs, but Hunk’s right. Lance knows when to be stern and when to be soft. He used to always think being mostly kind would work, with the right amount assertiveness. He learned his lesson quickly after getting his first real nursing gig. That no-nonsense attitude festered as his ass kept getting squeezed more often than he thought it would, but he really started to get that take-no-shit brashness the second time someone broke his nose. His beautiful, beautiful nose, he’d mourned. Everyone says it looks the same, but Lance can see it’s a little crooked. Keith notices too.

Lance’s work ethic, though he’ll disagree vehemently, is similar to Keith’s. He’s tougher, not here to mess around, gets shit done and doesn’t complain. He even notices how he doesn’t talk about what’s going on in his head much anymore. That’s the part that scared him the most, the part that reminded him most of Keith.

There’s still that childish spark within him that never fails to make itself known. A wicked and quick sense of humor and ability to find optimism in dire situations lie within in him, those traits always finding a way to bring a smile to a patient’s face, to soothe their nerves. It’s no doubt Lance is one of the funniest and most compassionate people on staff.

“Yes,” Lance emphasizes. “So, you better be nice.”

“Oh, please. _ I  _ am super nice. Nicest guy around.”

“Mmm. Shiro and Hunk are right there.”

“Alright. Valid,” Keith surrenders. Hunk  _ is _ really gentle in his movements, and being around Shiro is like being around a teddy bear and all-knowing therapist simultaneously, for Keith, at least.

“Well, as long as you’re here, I guess I should let you know the two civilians that came in with you are perfectly fine, just needed some stitches, some oxygen, a little TLC. Only first-degree burns. That lovely drunk guy is trying to leave now, and I’m about ready to let him walk out.”

“That’s good to hear. Thank you, Lance.” Shiro’s tone is heartfelt. Hunk stands up, throwing away the wrappers and gauze he had been using on Keith.

“I got some patients I need to get to. Keith, you’re gonna be fine. You got a fat bruise, the cut’s not deep enough for stitches. Your x-rays are clear, and you don’t even have a concussion,” Hunk pats his shoulder, rising from his stool, kindly smiling at Keith. He pulls off his gloves and tosses them, then rubs in some hand sanitizer. “I’ll getcha out of here in a few once I get the paperwork.”

“Thank you, Hunk. You were much nicer than Lance would’ve been.” Keith reaches out a hand to shake.

“Nice to finally meet you, buddy.” Hunk grabs his hand, gives it a good shake. His hand is solid and warm, Keith thinks it feels like Lance’s, only bigger. Hunk heads out, he knows Shiro, Lance, and Keith have quite a lot of catching up to do, especially the latter two. Keith can’t help but wonder what Hunk means by  _ finally. _

Lance sighs a huge breath, sitting on the end of Keith’s bed, Shiro leaning back into his chair. He waits a moment before he speaks, “So…nice to know the whole coma thing worked out.”

Shiro chuckles, leaning his chin on his fist. “Yeah. About a year and, like, eight months ago. Just…woke up.”

_A year and eight months?_ Keith didn’t tell Lance that whole time? It was the one condition he had when Lance and Keith diverged paths and, subsequently, lives. Lance immediately looks over at Keith with a wild look in his eyes, as if to say _You broke your promise, and kept it up for that long? Are you kidding me?_ Keith immediately deters his gaze away from Lance’s in exchange to look at the floor, guilt washing over him. Lance knows he feels bad, almost enjoys Keith’s obvious discomfort. _You_ should _feel bad. You idiot._ _I was so scared for both of you._

Lance nods along as Shiro explains the aftermath of the coma. Listening to his rehab experience, the tale of him  _ finally  _ waking up, what they’ve been up to since then. Apparently, Keith, after dropping out of college, had taken some time off to tend to Shiro and do some reflecting. When Shiro woke, seemingly out of nowhere, Keith had been finishing up his fire science degree. As Shiro recuperated, Keith got his EMT certification and finished school. Next thing he knows, Keith’s got a job in Chicago, and after a slight disagreement between the brothers, Shiro returned to the fire department.

They’d like to say Keith ending up in Shiro’s firehouse was a stroke of luck, but there were quite a few people within the department were indebted to Shiro, and those who had just felt immense respect for him, so a few strings were pulled regarding Keith’s placement. Keith doesn’t say a word the whole time Shiro revisits the ordeal.

Shiro asks about Lance, who has little to say. His family’s pretty much the same, though Marco got engaged a month ago, Rachel’s recently married, Luis and Lisa are expecting another baby, and Veronica’s finishing up grad school. Lance purposefully leaves out the ugly details of a recent breakup as well as the train wreck of his final collegiate years. He describes his career thus far succinctly; six months at one hospital, a year and a half at this one, but he’s gained  _ plenty _ of experience working at a hospital in the heart of Chicago.

“I mean, everything’s been pretty much as planned, career wise, family-wise,” Lance shrugs, omitting the more personal details of his life the past few years. “Still broke, but I’m a broke nurse rather than a broke college student, which is an upgrade. Now I’m just…figuring out what my next step is.”  _ Of course, _ Keith thinks, mentally rolling his eyes. Lance can’t sit still for shit, it’s no shock he’s already trying to find a new endeavor to take on. “Currently though, I’m still trying to get my head wrapped around the fact that you’re here and sitting in my ER.”

“ _ Your  _ ER? That’s bold,” Keith chuckles.

Shiro smiles fondly. “I wouldn’t wanna be in  _ any _ other ER.”

“That’s the spirit! Thank you, Shiro.”

“I mean it, Lance. I’m proud of you. You were just a scrawny little kid with braces when I met you. Look at you now. Great friends, great job, one that I’m sure you’re  _ excellent  _ at, by the way,” Shiro smiles, moving to stand. “However, I’ve been holding in this piss forever, so I’m gonna go take care of that.”

“Thanks, man. Enjoy our lovely bathrooms.” Lance watches Shiro leave. He closes the curtain completely on the way out, Lance and Keith know he’s isolating and forcing them to talk. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“He’s subtle,” Lance notes. The air is thicker now, heavier, the noise of the ER has lessened. To Lance, the various sounds of the hospital are white noise by now, but Keith couldn’t ignore the volume since he got here. He notices, suddenly, how quiet everything seems, like nothing exists around them, as he and Lance sit on the bed. The latter sits on the edge by Keith’s feet, whose legs are crossed as he leans back in the stretcher. Lance doesn’t want to think about the last time he and Keith were left in a room alone.

Lance wants to be mad at Keith, but he’s just lying there in that hospital bed, with cuts on his face and a tired look in his eyes. Lance knows that look, it’s the look of a long shift that just won’t end. Nonetheless, Keith looks  _ happy.  _ Lance is willing to bet it has something to do with him no longer being in his life, as well as having his big brother back. He has a job that he seems passionate about, something to attach to beyond Lance and Shiro now. He’s put meaning back in his life, and Lance can’t be mad at him for that.

But he didn’t call when Shiro woke up. He knows they weren’t on the best terms but…he expected a call if something changed. He made Keith  _ promise _ he would call, no matter what, if something happened with Shiro. Lance knew he and Keith left everything at a strange stand-still. Not exactly a truce, but it wasn’t a bitter note, either. Keith didn’t owe Lance anything, but Lance was the  _ one _ person that stuck with Keith when Shiro ended up in that coma. Lance was the  _ one _ person Keith had, and at times, Keith was the  _ one  _ person Lance felt he had. They meant something to each other, but they were leading different lives. Lance understood that, but after everything he and Keith had been through, it couldn’t have been for nothing. Right?

“ _ You’re _ not.” Keith is looking away.

“What do you mean?” Lance asks quietly.

“You’re sad, or something.” Keith can see it in his eyes. He’s tired.

Lance nods, understandingly. “You too. But it’s weird, you’re happier but…there’s, like, a weight, or something.” Keith doesn’t respond. Lance pushes it. “Maybe it’s because you feel guilty for, I don’t know, breaking the one promise you swore you’d keep?”

“There it is,” Keith sighs, rolling his eyes. Lance is about to keep going but…he doesn’t even know what to say. He just gives Keith this… _ look. _ This exasperated, tired look that says  _ I got nothin’. _

“Before you start…just…you’re right. I should’ve called. I’m sorry. And I’m…glad you’re here now.” Keith closes his eyes the whole time he talks.

“Wow. That must’ve hurt,” Lance shakes his head.

“Lance. I mean it. I suck at this, and my pride is wounded- ”

_ “Your pride?  _ Are you for real?” After years of not hearing from him or anything about Shiro, after shutting Lance out of his life, out of Shiro’s, he has the balls to whine about how hard it was to ignore Lance? How humiliating it is to apologize?

“I was just joking. Sheesh, you were always funnier, anyway,” Keith breathes. That’s a lie, Lance has never laughed with anyone more than he has with Keith. “I’m serious, Lance. I’m sorry.”

Lance nods. He doesn’t want to forgive Keith. But he looks over at him, with those pleading eyes, that hold a little sadness, a lot of tragedy, but somehow still manage to make Lance’s heart a little lighter. Ah, shit. He’s such a sucker when it comes to Keith. He’s so  _ weak _ with him, willing to succumb, putty in Keith’s hands. He mumbles, not exactly against his own will, “Don’t worry about it.”

Nonchalant, chill, comfortable. Lance makes his forgiveness sound the exact opposite as it feels. Keith can see through him. He may not be an expert in emotionally demanding moments but…Lance needs to let this out. He urges Lance to say what he’s been holding in all this time. “Lance, come on. Hit me with it, lay it on me. I deserve it.”

Lance looks over at Keith, then down at his own feet. He agrees, Keith does deserve it, but Lance just doesn’t have the energy. “I have patients.”

Then he’s standing, peeling back the curtain. “I don’t ever wanna see you or your brother in this ER again. Not as patients. Please, Keith.”

Keith swallows. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

He doesn’t promise anything, Lance doesn’t even want him to. If he did promise, Lance wouldn’t expect him to hold true to his word, not anymore. Part of Lance trusts Keith with his life, but when it comes to more emotional promises, Lance no longer has full faith.

“Have a nice life, Keith.”

Lance disappears behind the curtain. A few minutes later the guys from Keith’s crew come in, making jokes and laughing with him, like they didn’t almost die earlier tonight, like Lance didn’t just skin him raw with only a small exchange of words. Keith waits for someone to give him the go ahead to leave this stupid hospital, trying to ignore the lump in his throat that formed as Lance left his side. It was a little too achingly familiar. He will not cry, he will not cry, he will not cry.

 


	2. we can talk it good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kinda boring but this is still the set-up (it's gonna get good, i promise). each chapter title, and the title itself, is from ribs by lorde
> 
> shameless self promo: my tumblr is [lancebased](lancebased.tumblr.com)

**_Lance, 14 years old._ **

 

**_Keith, 14 years old._ **

 

**_Past_ **

 

“Oh my God, you suck at this,” Lance laughs, settling on the couch with two plates full of pizza. Keith is sitting on the edge of his seat, shoulders tense, fingers smashing the buttons on the controller at random.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith sits back once the boss finally defeats him. He doesn’t even know what game he’s playing, just that Lance left the responsibility of this level in Keith’s hands as he went to get the pizza they had thrown in the oven twenty minutes ago. “Did you put in another pizza?”

 

“Yeah,” Lance sips from his cup of water. Whenever they make pizza, they have to make multiple, there’s just too many people running around Lance’s house for only one pizza. As soon as anyone in this house smells anything cooking, a million kids just seem to appear out of nowhere, mouths watering. Now, it’s more like a bunch of teenagers and young adults, with the occasional little cousin. They still all flock for the food, no matter how old.

 

The vibe of the Santiago house changed greatly with the aging family. Veronica is finishing up high school, Rachel just left for college, Marco is in his junior year of college, and Luis is graduated and married, with a baby on the way. Lance just started high school with Keith, but for whatever reason, watching his family move on with their lives makes him feel uncomfortably stagnant.

 

This house used to be filled with so much constant noise, the silence that arrived with the coming of age of all the Santiago kids was deafening in comparison. Keith lived in a few homes that were loud, but not for the right reasons. Lance’s house was loud with laughing children, banging pots and pans, little footsteps making the floorboard creak with every step. The few foster houses Keith lived in were loud with couples spewing insults, the crying of a spouse or a child, an angry teenagers remarks, or with Keith’s headphones putting his eardrums through hell as he tries to ignore it all. Keith needs to drown it out, everyone knows that’s why he spends so much time at Lance’s house.

 

“You can play now, I’m done,” Keith sets the controller on the table, taking one of the greasy plates from Lance.

 

“Giving up so soon?”

 

“No, just…quitting while I’m ahead,” he lies, shrugging and stuffing the slice into his mouth.

 

“Uh huh,” Lance hums, mouth full of cheese. It’s no secret Keith is the absolute worst at video games, he just never was able to get the whole hand-eye thing down. He could play simple games; he’s spent who knows how much time playing useless games like Sims and Animal Crossing.

 

Lance had laughed at him for the Animal Crossing, not maliciously, of course. It was just odd for Keith. He’s so angsty at times and can have that broody aura to him, it was hard to imagine him playing such a cutesy game. (“Just try it!” Keith insisted. “It’s fun and soothing and you need to slow down anyway.” Lance gave in, and after learning the ropes, he loved it. He’d go over to Keith’s town and plant colorful flowers everywhere, pick his weeds, even decorate his little house, never his own. Keith was right, it was tranquil, mind-numbing, and exactly what Lance needed at times.)

 

Lance was more into typical video games, filled with combat and violence and little plot. He wanted action, he was good with his hands, he needed something fast paced. Keith pointed out that his taste in games sucks, that playing Call of Duty 56 or whatever was a waste of time when he could be playing something with actual substance. Keith would end up stealing some of his foster brother’s games to make Lance play, beginning their little video game tradition.

 

Most days after Lance got back from practice, Keith would head over to Lance’s house, where they would just sit and play some games, doing homework or eating in between. It’s not like Keith would be doing any different in at his foster home, but, reluctant to admit it, he preferred being at Lance’s. His mother always greeting him at the door, always welcome to eat dinner with the family.

 

Before he truly felt comfortable around them, Keith would feel as if he’s using their resources, pretending to be a part of a family to make up for not having his own. Soon enough, he’d express these concerns to Lance, who obviously told his mom, who then made an effort to set Keith aside, assuring him they  _ want  _ him around, that she loves him like her own, why else would she be calling him  _ mijo _ all the time?

 

Insistent that Keith was welcome in their warm home, she forced him to take her words to heart. There was always an extra spot for Keith at their table, always a bed for him to crash in if needed. It only came down to that once or twice, so in the meantime, it was easy to just exist as part of the unit. Becoming increasingly comfortable with Lance’s siblings and extended cousins proved to be easier than originally thought, they just treated him like Lance, only a little nicer.

 

Simplicity was found in the ability to play freely in the Santiago home; to walk around barefoot with scabs on knees and elbows, to laugh and talk about anything in the world, to play video games at ridiculous volumes, to sit in comfortable silence while struggling over homework...it wasn’t hard to fall into the quick pace of the family, even easier to keep up once Keith got used to it. Though Lance had noticed, silently, that while he could function on his own within the family, everything was a bit different when Keith was around. A good kind of different, he’d realized; something he couldn’t name, but something he definitely preferred.

 

They’d bicker over nothing, make silly comments about whatever game was being played, gossip about their day, or not talk at all, opting to just exist as they did their homework or played their game. If it got late enough, Keith would fall asleep on the couch, often curled up into a little ball, clutching a pillow. He’d never say it out loud, but Lance particularly liked it when Keith would fall asleep against him, his head heavy on Lance’s shoulder, warmth pressed into his side.

 

For now, Keith is munching on some shitty brand of pizza that tastes more like cardboard than pizza, but he’s a growing boy, so he eats it anyway. Lance eats slower than him, taking bites as he restarts the level. It’s around four o’clock on a Tuesday in the middle of November, Keith has a math test tomorrow and Lance is complaining about his group for some project. It snowed yesterday and froze over today, and it gets darker ten times earlier now that daylight-savings happened. Keith loves this weather. It makes him feel that much warmer and cozier when he’s inside. Though he notices he only gets that feeling when he’s at Lance’s. At his foster home, it’s always cold and grey, no matter the weather.

 

“What’s up with you lately, man?” Lance asks after a few minutes of crunching on the pizza.

 

“What do you mean?” Keith doesn’t look at him.

 

“You’ve been kinda off lately or something. Too quiet.”

 

“I’m always quiet.”

 

“Uh, not this quiet.”

 

Keith shrugs. He’s been contemplating telling Lance about this for a while. What happened last week has been eating him alive. He can’t even tell anyone, he promised. But for Lance…that would be fine, right? Lance wouldn’t tell anyone. Keith  _ knows  _ he wouldn’t, not if Keith asked him to. “Um…Well, I mean, like-”

 

“Holy crap, dude, spit it out.” Lance wipes his mouth on a napkin.

 

Keith takes a deep breath, bringing the plate down to his lap. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to swear you won’t tell anyone else.”

 

Whoa, Keith’s pretty serious about this. “Yeah, man. I swear.”

 

Keith swallows. “I, uh. I kissed someone last week.”

 

Lance nearly blasts through the ceiling, tossing his remote to the ground. “You  _ what?!” _

 

Keith smiles sheepishly while Lance losing his mind, standing up and yelling, “Keith, dude! That’s crazy! Oh, man, I can’t believe this. Gimmie the details! Who’d you kiss?”

 

Keith takes another big breath. Please, please,  _ please  _ let Lance take this well. “It was…um. Izaiah.”

 

Lance stops short for a moment, he straightens his back a little. “Khan? Izaiah Khan?”

 

Keith refuses to look at Lance, face too red, too scared. He whispers, “Yeah…”

 

“Oh,” Lance stops to think for a beat then asks, “Was he a good kisser?”

 

Keith furrows his brow and gets the nerve to look up at Lance, who’s looking at Keith with pure curiosity. “You don’t, like, think it’s weird?”

 

“What’s weird?”

 

“Me kissing a _ boy,”  _ Keith whispers on the last word.

 

“No. I mean, I think one of my cousins has a boyfriend, and he’s a boy too, but it’s not weird, I don’t think so at least. But I’m pretty sure _mis abuelitos_ _y_ _mi papá y_ _mi tío_ are a little weird about it.” Noticing the unease that still lingers, Lance sits back down next to Keith, a little closer than before, bumping his shoulder teasingly to soothe him. “You’re not weird, Keith.”

Keith whispers a small ‘thanks’ before Lance starts to prod him for details again. Keith tells him the specifics, blushing as he recounts it all: Keith and Izaiah went bike riding the other day to get some candy from the gas station - the sketchy one that Lance’s mom doesn’t want them going to - and they were hanging out behind the building, kicking a piece of ice back and forth across the pavement, just talking. Izaiah started telling Keith he was really cool to hang around, and he would usually be scared to go to the gas station, but Keith is always so chill and seems really tough, but he still feels really safe around him. (Lance doesn’t interrupt Keith, but he feels that way around him too.)

 

“Then we got back to his house, and we were in his garage, and he gave me a water bottle for the ride home, and when he handed it to me… and he just kissed me. For, like, two seconds.”

 

“S’fun kissing, right?” Lance asked, wiggling his brows. He had kissed the same girl twice now and  _ never  _ failed to let Keith know how amazing it was.

 

“Yeah, I guess. I got the chills when he did it,” Keith breathes, cheeks still red.

 

“Think you’ll do it again?”

 

“Kiss him? I don’t know, people don’t like when boys kiss, I don’t really know him that much either.”

 

“So?”

 

“So, people at school will say stuff, and if my foster dad finds out I think he’ll actually kill me. I don’t wanna die, and I’m just…scared, I guess. So you can’t tell anybody.” Lance doesn’t say anything else. Keith turns to him suddenly, eyes serious, and reiterates, “Lance, seriously. You can’t tell  _ anyone  _ about this. I promised Izaiah I wouldn’t say anything to anyone because he’s scared too.”

 

“Whoa, dude, of course. I won’t tell a soul.” Lance holds up his hand as if he’s reciting an oath.

 

“Not even your mom.”

 

Shit. That might be tough. But Lance could hold out for Keith. “Not even my mom.”

 

Keith relaxes back into the couch, sighing, with Lance following suit.

 

“I’m sorry you have to be scared,” Lance murmurs. Keith doesn’t respond.

 

**_Lance, 25 years old._ **

 

**_Keith, 24 years old._ **

 

**_Present_ **

 

Lance tends to sit on his hands when he’s nervous, it keeps him from moving around too much or chewing his nails, which is what he’s itching to do right now, so he takes his hands from his mouth and shoves them under his thighs. He starts bouncing his leg as he sits on the plastic seats of the Blue Line, the train car remarkably less crowded than expected for one in the afternoon. He should’ve gotten off three stops back to get to his place; his shift is in a few hours and he still has to shower. He’s not even sure what made him stay on the train, he just knows that he missed his stop, and now he’s got a map route open to the fire station Keith and Shiro work at.

 

His mind has been running constantly, Keith’s stupid face and stupid smile and stupid laugh on loop in his brain; he wants to see it all in person again. This is the third time in the past two weeks Lance has impulsively missed his stop to find Keith, but each time he’s turned around.

 

The other two times were just after his shift, but he talked himself out of it, telling himself midnight is too late to bother Keith. Right now, though, it’s a reasonable time of day, and there’s still time to back out again. He could, and a part of his brain is insisting he  _ should, _ get off at the next stop, just turn around and go home.

 

It’s been three weeks since he saw Keith and Shiro for the first time in  _ years _ . Who can blame him if it shook him up a little bit? He left Keith that night at such a tense note, and Lance didn’t even get to talk to Shiro once he basically told Keith to never come back.

 

_ Have a nice life, Keith. _ Those five words drew a line in the sand. Lance had implied that he no longer wanted Keith in his life, he got his closure when it came to Shiro, that’s all he needed. He moved on from Keith, and from that bittersweet, stagnant point in his life. Lance was no longer stagnant, his life is now gaining momentum, he’s moving on his own accord. That’s all he had been looking for his entire life. All he wanted was to feel like he made some sort of progress; now, he has the best job in the world, amazing friends, his family’s proud of him, and every ugly thing Lance had said and done before this point was behind him. He’s content and in control.

 

Then, why is he going backward? Why is he going to Keith? And why does it feel like seeking out Keith is going forward?

 

A line in the sand. But that’s all it is- a line. It isn’t a fence, or a barrier, or some fortress. It’s not even a real line; it’s just some metaphorical warning. Nothing’s really stopping anyone from crossing that line. Besides, Lance drew the line, doesn’t that mean it’s his to cross?

 

The monotone voice rings over the speaker, reminding the passengers of the current stop, the stop he has to get off at to get to the firehouse. Lance can feel his legs moving, but he has no control over them.  _ Ugh. Yes, you do have control, you moron. You know exactly what you’re doing. To yourself. To him,  _ he thinks. Lance can’t get out of his own mind. He walks fast through the thick August air, one headphone in, not even listening to the music.

 

Lance can see the garage doors to the fire station now, one of them wide open. His mind teeters between hoping Keith is working and hoping he’s not. Hands in his pockets, he can hear laughter coming from inside. Taking a couple deep breaths as he walks into the garage, he sees a group of four people gathered in front of one of the trucks. Or engines, Lance doesn’t know the difference.

 

They’re all laughing about something, Lance recognizes Thace from that night, and even some of the others from when they may have dropped a patient off in the ER. Lance wonders if Keith has come into the hospital before, if Lance missed him, and if Keith saw Lance but decided not to say anything. His heart’s racing now, his hands feel gross and damp in his pockets. He scolds himself for wearing a light jacket in the middle of the steaming Chicago summer, especially considering how he’s sweating more than usual.

 

The laughing stops as Lance slows his pace, walking into the garage. He takes a few steps toward the group and interrupts their conversation but keeps his distance, the man and woman closest to Lance had their backs to him but turn to face him. One of the men greets Lance, “Hey, what can I do for ya?”

 

“Hi, yeah, uh. I’m looking- I’m looking for Keith,” Lance stutters. It dawns on him that he is, in fact, nervous. He doesn’t even know what he’s scared of, it’s just Keith. They’ve lived with each other, used each other’s toothbrushes, cried into each other’s arms, laughed so hard they’ve snorted, they’ve rubbed each other’s backs as they puke into the toilets, sober or not. Lance often finds that when he looks back on his late childhood and entire adolescence, he can’t find a single memory Keith didn’t somehow intricately weave his way into.

 

“Kogane?” The girl asks, Lance notes her department issued shirt reads ‘Rizavi’ on her upper right chest. Her hair is tightly held back with a headband and a high ponytail, but a few loose pieces fall to frame her face, a pair of thin glasses over hazel eyes. “Is he working today?”

 

“Yeah, I saw him earlier,” Thace supplies, accent thick. “Y’know, you look really familiar. Did we meet you on a call or something?”

 

“Yeah, I know you from somewhere!” This guy’s shirt reads ‘Griffin.’ He steps toward Lance and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Come to thank the guy that saved your life or somethin’?”

 

Lance can nearly smell the arrogance of this guy. “No, I-”

 

“Hey, Iverson,” Thace calls to a man in a decorated white shirt, Lance deduces he must be the battalion chief. “If you’re headin’ inside, tell Kogane to get out here, a cute girl wants his number.”

 

Thace turns to Lance, it occurs to him that he doesn’t remember him from that night. “It’s always funny when we tell Keith a girl’s tryna flirt or somethin’. He gets all crabby and annoyed, it’s even funnier when we have to watch him turn her down, ‘cuz he’s gay. Which could be good for you, but I’m guessing you already knew that considering you’re here now.”

 

Lance doesn’t really get why Thace points  _ that  _ out, but he hopes the heat in his cheeks doesn’t show. “Yeah, that’s not really why-”

 

“Why don’t you come on back? We’re headin’ inside anyway, Kogane’s probably in the kitchen.” Nadia starts wandering towards the back of the garage and walks through a swinging door, the group follows.

 

Lance is the last one in; he stands awkwardly near the door, watching the other crew members move around or sit at a table in the middle of the galley kitchen. It’s not that small, but the fact there are a bunch of people milling about makes it feel tight. Maybe it’s just Lance, but everything feels tight right now, his heart is still stammering in his chest a little. Someone asks, “Anyone seen Kogane?”

 

“Not for a while,” another voice answers. Something’s cooking and James is grabbing dishes from a cupboard. Iverson walks into the room but stops when he sees Lance. “Are you the one looking for Kogane?”

 

“Yeah, um, or Shiro, if Keith’s not here.”

 

“Isn’t Shiro a little old for-”

 

“James, don’t be gross,” Rizavi warns. She turns toward another doorway and calls out, “Shiro! Someone’s here for you!”

 

“See,” Thace begins, “I’m not shocked when people come around lookin’ for Shiro to thank him for whatever, he’s a charmer. But Kogane?”

 

“Well, he must’ve really liked you if he lets you call him by his first name, or even talked to you at all,” Iverson adds, sitting down and picking up a copy of the Chicago Tribune. “That kid’s weird around new people.”

 

_ Old news,  _ Lance thinks, remembering how long it took Keith to warm up to him even as kids. Thace speaks up, “What do you even wanna see ‘em for?”

 

“Hey, hey! Look who it is!” Shiro walks into the room, eyes lighting up when he spots Lance. “How ya doin’, Lance?”

 

“Good, good. You?” Lance can feel himself relax as Shiro moves toward him.

 

“Great! C’mere, bring it in,” Shiro beckons as he pulls Lance into a quick hug, warm and strong.

 

“Shit, you’re really on these guys’ good side. Shiro’s hugging you, Kogane's letting you call him by his first name. Just how bad was the call you were at?” Thace teases.

 

“First of all, I hug everyone,” Shiro points out, slinging an arm around Lance. “Secondly, Lance wasn’t at any call, I’ve known this little meathead for  _ years.” _

 

“Oh? This is news, why haven’t I heard about you before, Lance?” Rizavi puts her hands on her hips, head slightly tilted.

 

“Yeah, what gives, Shiro?” Thace asks, picking a crumb off his shirt.

 

Lance pipes up this time, “Keith’s the one who gets all whiny when it comes to me.”

 

“No shit?” James laughs. “Why’s that?”

 

“Lance and Keith grew up together, even went to college together for a bit before Keith went into firefighting. For as long as I’ve known them, half the stuff they say to each other is just bickering. They’re like children, or an old married couple. I thought they’d grow out of it, but I think Lance got most his stubbornness from Keith, so they never let up,” Shiro chuckles as they talk, the crew seeming to enjoy this rare glimpse they get into Keith’s life.

 

“We did, more than you think. You just napped through the whole thing,” Lance ran a hand through his hair, smiling.

 

“ _ Napped?  _ I was in a coma!” Shiro gasped, pulling away from Lance, dramatically insulted.

 

“Pure laziness,” Lance shakes his head. “You know, every time I came over to your guys’ place as a kid, you’d be napping.”

 

“I was like, twenty years old, responsible for an entire child, and as you know, Keith was not as mellow then as he is now,” Shiro retorts. Lance rolls his eyes, smiling at the memories. When Keith got comfortable around Shiro, he was like a whole new being. He smiled more, laughed louder, tried harder in school. But he was still an adolescent boy with a big brother; they’d argue, give each other attitude, pull pranks (many of which Lance was the mastermind behind, but Shiro didn’t have to know that). He had a real family to go home to for the first time in years.

 

Lance recalls an old memory, after a particularly late night when Keith had run away to Lance’s house after a nasty fight with his foster dad, when Keith was asleep on the couch after Lance calmed him down, where he asked his mom if Keith could live with them. It broke her heart to explain why that couldn’t happen. But then Shiro came along, brightening Keith’s world and broadening his horizons, letting Keith be a kid for the first time in forever. Lance had always been thankful for that, he supposes he should tell Shiro that sometime.

 

The impromptu group laughs for a little while longer, reminiscing on Lance and Keith’s shared childhood, spilling a few embarrassing stories regarding each other. He sits down with the crew after a while, surprised how comfortable he is around them already. They’re a family; dysfunctional, but wholesome. It reminds Lance of his own family, reminds him how far away they are. He’s glad Keith has this family, though he doubts Keith is even letting them close enough to his heart to truly consider them family.

 

The crew counters Lance’s adolescent tales with anecdotes of Keith’s time in the firehouse. Keith puked after his first real fire, but that’s not rare for rookies. They dramatically revisit Keith’s best saves, Lance can’t help but feel a small well of pride listening. Hazing, Lance has learned, is a rite of passage. Rizavi explains her personal favorite prank: Jumper Seat. “See, what you do is attach a car battery to a metal chair, and make it the only place the guy can sit!”

 

At this point, Lance is laughing so hard, tears might fall out of his eyes. Shiro can barely get a word out, “I really wanted Keith to do that one, I was really rooting for it.”

 

God, it’s so  _ good  _ to see Shiro so care-free after all he’s been through. Lance chuckles, “Which one did you do to him then?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Keith bursts into the room, looking flustered.

 

“Oh, now I  _ gotta  _ know,” Lance insists, leaning back in his chair.

 

“We took Keith for a walk with Fido,” Shiro teases cryptically, raising his brows.

 

“Yeah? And what’s that one like?”

 

“ _ Do not,”  _ Keith warns, half begs. “Seriously, he won’t let it go if you tell him.”

 

“Even better,” Lance winks. Keith’s heart may or may not skip a beat.

 

“This one is so good, oh man, I used to do this to every rookie at one of my old houses,” Thace wheezes. “You find steaming pile of dog shit or whatever and put it in his boots. Then hope and pray for a long ass call, which we got, by the way, so he’s stuck walkin’ around in shit the whole time!”

 

“Oh my  _ God _ , that’s fucking incredible,” Lance cries, stomach starting to hurt.

 

“It was  _ not!  _ That call lasted for like four hours! My feet smelled like dog shit for a week!” Keith is doing that stupid giggle thing as he talks. Lance knows if he keeps laughing, Keith might snort, he always does when he laughs hard enough. God, Lance hasn’t seen Keith so laid back and purely content in an eternity. It’s amazing how relieved Lance is witnessing it, he didn’t even know how much tension was festering within him in the first place. Maybe it’s knowing Keith is in a good place, maybe it’s just being around Keith; either way, Lance feels like he can fit more air in his lungs than before.

 

The group talks a little more, chatting, laughing. They tell Lance he should stay for lunch, it’s almost finished. Lance begins to stand as he answers, slowly stepping back from the table, “I appreciate the offer, but I got work soon, and I did come here for a reason, so…”

 

He makes eye contact with Keith, the room feeling a little awkward. Keith knows that look, Lance has something serious to say. He stands, hoping he doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels. “Oh. Yeah, let’s…go outside?”

 

“Lead the way,” Lance murmurs, he can feel everyone’s eyes on them as he holds the door open for Keith. He follows Keith through the garage, past the trucks, the bunker pants and jackets, the gear. Keith brings Lance to the grill of the truck- or engine, Lance still doesn’t know the difference. He asks.

 

“It’s a truck. The trucks have ladders,” Keith states bluntly, crossing his arms, leaning against the vehicle.

 

Lance nods, looking up at the massive truck. “Interesting-”

 

“Why are you here?”

 

Lance looks over at Keith quickly. “You’re still so blunt.”

 

Keith rolls his eyes. “Don’t be difficult.”

 

Lance scoffs, “Yeah,  _ I’m _ difficult.”

 

Keith doesn’t respond, he doesn’t feel like arguing. Shiro was right, half of their conversations do consist of bickering. Lance runs his hand through his hair before talking again. “I…honestly don’t know why I’m here.”

 

“Kept thinking about coming to see you, too,” Keith admits with hesitance.

 

“Yeah?” Lance breathes. “I tried to come, three, different times but I kept chickening out.”

 

“There were a few times when I almost went to the hospital with a vic, but I couldn’t do it,” Keith admits, it actually shocks Lance a little bit. So, Keith was thinking about Lance as much as Lance was thinking about Keith? “Scared I’d run into you.”

 

“Is it fucked up to be relieved you said that?” Lance talks with a laugh to ease the tension, it doesn’t really work.

 

“No,” Keith laughs back, shaking his head. Lance’s shoulders relax at Keith’s answer.

 

Lance clears his throat but still talks quietly as he joins Keith in leaning against the grill of the apparatus, “I really missed you, man.”

 

Keith is looking at the ground, afraid to meet Lance’s eyes. “Me too.”

 

Another small wave of relief splashes over Lance. He’s about to say something else when Keith speaks up, “I showered.”

 

“Huh?” Lance looks over at him quizzically.

 

“You told me you wouldn’t hug me ‘til I showered.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Lance smiles softly, moving toward Keith, opening his arms. “Bring it in.”

 

The embrace comes naturally, Keith snakes his arms under Lance’s, holding onto his shoulder blades, gripping that old green jacket. Lance wraps around Keith’s shoulders, one hand on the back of his head rather than on his back. Keith tucks his chin in Lance’s neck, hot breath giving him goosebumps.

 

It’s a little different, considering Keith is a little broader and taller than before, but it still feels as natural as ever. Shiro and his mom give great hugs, but there’s something about Keith’s arms enveloping him that just can’t compare. When he hugs Shiro, he’s the one being held; when he hugs his mom, his mom’s the one being held; when it comes to Keith, they hold each other.

 

They stay like that for another moment, slightly swaying, taking in each other’s warmth. Keith feels that stupid lump back in his throat creeping its way back, insisting to be known. Lance swallows and speaks softly, “Why didn’t you tell me about Shiro?”

 

Oh, God, Keith can’t help it. A tear falls as he murmurs, “I was scared.”

 

“Of what?” Their voices don’t move above a whisper.

 

“I don’t know,” Keith whines, holding Lance tighter. “I was scared to see you again, and to talk to you. I was scared Shiro would go back under or something. I was just…really scared.”

 

Lance sighs. Keith never admits he’s scared, not to anyone that isn’t Lance. He pulls back, holding Keith tight at his shoulders. Keith immediately feels colder without Lance clinging to him. “You were that scared for nearly two years?”

 

Keith shrugs, wiping at his eyes. “It was easier to ignore it. It’s not like we saw each other a lot anymore anyway.”

 

Easier to ignore it. It seems ignorance truly is bliss, for Keith at least. Lance shakes his head, fed up with the old excuse, “Yeah, that sounds like you. Ignoring everything ‘til it blows up.”

 

“I’m  _ sorry _ . Lance, I know I should’ve-”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance lets go of his shoulders. “I’ve heard it all before.”

 

“Please, Lance. Please listen, I’m so fucking sorry-”

 

“Keith, stop.” Lance’s tone is almost harsh. “I  _ am _ listening. You’re forgiven, man.”

 

_ Forgiven.  _ Keith didn’t even know that’s all he wanted to hear until Lance says it. More tears fall well in his eyes, despite his dignity’s best attempt at refusing to show any weakness. Lance pulls him in again, hand smoothing over Keith’s hair. They stand there for another quiet minute before Lance asks, “Did you need a new roommate?”

 

Keith frowns, sniffles, pulls back. “What?”

 

“Shiro mentioned you hate living with him and Adam, especially now that they’re getting married soon. Hunk is moving out to live with his girlfriend, Allura, leaving me with the place. I can’t really afford it on my own, but it’s in the perfect location and-”

 

“Are you messing with me or something?”

 

“What? No, why would I do that?”

 

Keith shrugs. Lance shakes his head, talking again. “I’m serious, man. I need someone to split the rent with, and we already know each other, we’ve already lived with each other. We both need new roommates, it works out.”

 

Keith supposes Lance is right, he  _ is  _ sick of living with Shiro and Adam. But there’s a pit of fear embedded in his stomach at the thought of seeing Lance,  _ living  _ with Lance, again. He chews the inside of his cheek, thinking.

 

“You still do that?”

 

“What, chew my cheeks?”

 

“Yeah. You’ve done it as long as I’ve known you. How do you have any skin left?”

 

“Tissue in the mouth grows faster than a lot of places in the body. You should know that, you’re a nurse.”

 

“Well,  _ yeah,  _ I know that. I know, like, everything.”

 

“Everything?”

 

“I know more than you.”

 

Keith huffs a laugh. “I don’t really know why I do it. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

 

Lance hums. After another moment he asks, “So, you in?”

 

Keith stops chewing and looks up and Lance. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m in.”

 

They both break into a smile, despite the fear of the whole thing being a terrible idea that will blow up in their faces and drive each other out of their lives again. The very instant he agrees to live with Lance, for the second time, he begins building that familiar fortress. He’s unconsciously already begun constructing protective emotional walls and boundaries to keep Lance out of, and part of his brain is yelling, screaming at him to bail, to leave Lance before he drives him away again. But part of him can’t stay away, not when the opportunity is presenting itself on a silver platter.

 

They’re both ready. Ready to wake up and fall asleep together every day, ready to mindlessly wander through life together, ready to laugh with each other again, to go grocery shopping together, to clean together, to just exist as sleepy blobs together on lazy off days when they finally get to relax, to order take-out and eat until they’re ready to puke together. They  _ think _ they’re ready for the arguments, the blowouts, the highs, the lows. They  _ think _ they’re ready to put each other through the ringer again, but neither can be certain. They sure as hell want to try  _ this,  _ whatever it is, again.

 

Old habits undoubtedly die hard.

****__  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok for the age thing i'm going with canon birthdays, meaning there's a good 3ish months where lance's age is numerically higher than keith's. we all know how age and semantics work but it can get confusing, which is on me if i dont make it clear lol. if they're ever the same numerical age in a chapter its just because that it's taking place during 1 of the 9ish months where their numerical ages line up. if that only confused you more that's okay; the important thing is when they're 24 or 25 that means it's the "present."
> 
> idk when the next chapter's going up, i'm playing this all by ear as i have finals coming up and i need to put college before klance fanfics lmao. also i'm in a good 9 weeks into writing a 20 page long research paper on big pharma/corruption within the pharmaceutical industry, which is what most of my time writing is going to. along with a few more essays for other classes and regular coursework, it's hard to find the time/motivation to write sometimes (esp after writing so clinically and academically for long periods of time. i really try not to make my creative writing sound robotic like that, please tell me if it does lol)
> 
> this chapters kinda dull and i sat on it and revised it for ages but it's way better than what i had before. anywho i hope you guys are enjoying it and i thank you all for your kind words! please don't forget to comment, share, kudos, etc, i'd really appreciate it 
> 
> aaaaand here's my tumblr for good measure: [lancebased](lancebased.tumblr.com)
> 
> (sorry for the long notes that's why i threw it at the end)


End file.
